Last night I had a dream that involved a discussion about how some Australian people sound more British to me than Australian.
Then...this morning I started reading an old blog post of mine.
Okay. Detour here. Because of annoying changes on Blogger, I had to change my already somewhat complicated way of choosing which blog post to read.
So now what I do is look at the stats for my most popular posts in the last 24 hours. I go to the 7th post...and if that one already has my new labels, I move to the 13th post.
Well, I guess I should explain that my purpose in reading old blog posts is not just to reconnect with my past self but also to label or relabel old posts.
If both the 7th and 13th post don't need to be labeled or relabled, I move to the NOW stats and do the 7th or 13th post there. My blog isn't super popular, so sometimes the blog posts don't even go up to 7. In that case, I just have a day off.
Anyway, my purpose of explaining this is to A) show my probable-autism in action B)illustrate the randomness to which I pick the blog post.
Well, is it still random? It's actually very systematic.
But...it's more like the universe is picking the post than me deliberately deciding I want to read this particular post.
Am I making any sense?
I hope so.
So...to get back to my story.
It ended up that in the post, the universe has chosen for me today, I talk about British and Australian accents. I had been a bit satisfied, because, while we were in line at the Epcot Food and Wine Festival, Tim finally made some acknowledgment of my ability to speak in an Australian accent.
Now I'm going to read the rest of the post and see if there is any more synchronocity...or other fun stuff.
The post has a lot of stuff about bucket filling and bucket dipping....the analogy. I was really into that.
Okay. Here's some more synchronocity. Back then (in 2011, by the way) I wrote: Situations like that happen to me sometimes. Someone will vent to me, and it's hard to give them sympathy, because I relate more to the person they're mad at. I feel defensive about my own past actions, because they're like the guilty party's actions in the venting person's story.
That happened to me this week. Sort of. I related to the object of the venting and had sympathy, but I also (and more) strongly related to the person venting. It's like I've been on both ends of the situation.
Oh! I just read further and see that I said, I think often, though, I manage to be reasonably sympathetic. I guess the trick is to realize, in most cases, I CAN see both sides of the story. I just have to think hard and carefully about it.
I feel I'm really bonding with 2011-Me right now.
2011-Me had a good example-story for the situation:
Let's say an email-pal goes on and on about their annoying friend who's a vegetarian. Of course I'm going to relate more to the email-pal's friend. I'm a vegetarian too.
And I'll probably be annoyed at my email-pal for being so intolerant of the vegetarian.
However, if I think hard about it, I can remember times when I've been annoyed by someone's alternative food lifestyle. This is especially the case when the person is especially fanatic about it.
Once I remember these feelings, I can be empathetic instead of bitchy.
Oh no!!!!!
I just realized (saw) that this is the trip where I had the American Idol audition-trauma at Hollywood Studios.
It was a horrible experience that filled me with major self-doubt.
I'm finding it kind of funny...both ha ha and sad/funny, because back then I had so much confusion and self-doubt about whether or not I'm a good singer. And now I'm having all this confusion and self-doubt about whether I'm autistic or not.
Now when I'm in a more mentally stable mood, I have a (probably) realistic idea of my singing ability. I think what is comes down to is I'm a FANTASTIC singer every so often. This is usually when no one is listening, and I haven't turned any camera on to record myself. I also have to be in the right mood.
I'm sometimes lucky enough to be a good or great singer when I'm in the right mood, and there are some people listening...like family members.
Besides those times, I am a mediocre singer or a bad singer.
When I auditioned at Hollywood Studios, I was horribly nervous, and I was probably a bad singer. On top of that, the nervousness likely made the audition people uncomfortable. And they probably didn't want to make the audience feel that discomfort...especially since the audience is supposed to be on vacation at the happiest place on earth.
On top of all that that, I strongly believe there was some ageism involved. I think if I was of the age that American Idol preferred, they might have thought my nervousness was charming.
In the 2011 post, I try to be light about the whole thing. Or sort of light. But I was very hurt...and my self-esteem took quite a plunge. I say, I know all the people who get annoyed by my almost-constant singing will be glad to know that I'm as bad as they believed. They win.
This connects well back to the accent thing. I had often felt hurt by Tim (and other people in the family) not complimenting/acknowledging my singing and my fake accenting.
I was desperate for validation. I'm still often desperate. That hasn't changed.
I think maybe I should seek validation from my past self and give the same back to her. I'll assure her that she's a sometimes a really good singer and also sometimes good at faking accents, and she can assure me that I'm not imagining that I'm autistic.
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| A photo of me on that 2011 trip. I'm wearing a T-shirt I had made. I really think that should be a question on all Autism tests: "Have you ever made your own T-shirt about your special interest and then wore it in public?" |
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